No Stars At Night
by Aurora1997
Summary: When Gotham's hero disappears and the city is left to ruin, can a new hero rise or will a villain corrupt those left? (Read if you want. Summaries suck.)
1. Con Dolore

She walked along the emptiest street around; flickering lamps buzzing as the red sky brought an unnatural glow to the city. The ground was stained with suspicious liquids and empty brown bottles; glinting shards of glass littered the path she chose to walk through the maze of concrete blocks. To be fair, it was safer to walk through deserted areas at night than the heavily populated ones – people degraded into savages there and even animals would never commit the type of crime that haunted those places. She shivered slightly and pulled her worn jacket tighter around her, her chipped red nails reminded her of better days when bills were paid on time and there was even some spare for silly parties with cheap alcohol.

Those were distant memories now, and the cold bite of the wind brought her back to reality. She needed to get home. The lights in nearby houses were turned off, as a deterrent to any aggressor wandering through. But she couldn't worry about that now. She had to keep focused on her goal. Put one foot in front of the other. Stay alert for sounds and movement. Get home. Lock the door. Hide until morning. A sudden pang of fear stuck as she heard a shot from nearby. Panic grasped her pale frame as she began running, to hell with secrecy and all. She wanted to live.

Hurtling down narrow lanes and paved roads, she reached a more familiar but no more friendly part of town, gasping for air she reached her door. With shaky hands, she began reaching for her keys, furtively looking around for her biggest living fears. Pushing the key into the lock, she got inside but the adrenaline hadn't stopped yet. Running around her house, she pulled blinds down and locked and shut any doors. Finally, she grabbed her stale bread, leftover from the last time she ventured out and got into her giant metal cage. Standard procedure on any given night. Shutting the door with an obtrusive clang, she huddled into a corner and played with the threads at the ends of her sleeves.

It was going to be a long wait until morning.

As her alarm went off from near where she presumed her table was, she slowly opened her box and climbed out. Like most residents of Gotham city, days without their caped hero were dark. Nobody slept. Nobody went to work. It was a lie, cheat and steal lifestyle that most people adopted or died from. Most families ran away the moment the news broke, back when offices still ran and newspapers still printed. After the mass exodus, bridges were closed to keep of scum of Gotham away from the civilised, protected people. Helicopters flew overhead regularly, bright lights searching for life but not to save it, just to observe. This behaviour made the abandoned people in Gotham go wild with rage, they refused to let the world watch them drown in their own filth. Now, people roamed in vigilante groups, killing and torturing as they went. Children were kept locked in houses to be safe. She hadn't seen a child in years, and if she looked in a mirror now (if she could find one that wasn't smashed) she wouldn't see the teenager she used to be. Full of vibrancy and ambition. She was a fragment of a human like most people living in Gotham now, because without their hero, Gotham _was _hell on earth.


	2. Con Brio

Watching dawn in Gotham was the only thing she enjoyed doing anymore. Most of the thugs were passed out in some crummy shack or alley, whilst everyone else was just getting out of their own hiding places. The sunlight gave a warm feel to the usually harsh landscape, the sky scrapers seemed a little less intimidating and the city seemed less alone. For one second, as she looked into the hazy white sky, she could imagine that later it would turn blue. She could imagine that neat women would walk down the street with children, and that ordinary men would pull on their suits and ties and begin the long trek to work. She could imagine all the bakers on the neighbouring street starting to make pastries for the day, and she could almost taste the fresh, crumbly carrot cake she loved to buy every day from those small cafes.

But then the moment was gone, and all she could picture was the death and misery that must've come onto those poor, sweet people. She winced and pushed all the grisly images out of her head and began walking away towards the stairs which led away from the roof. Her paradise had expired and it was time to leave. She treaded lightly down the rusted metal staircase, preparing to scavenge for any remaining food. The most heartless thing, in her opinion was that the world knew that there was a limited supply of fresh food and water in Gotham and with no imports and no sense of rationing it was blatantly obvious that Gotham was a sinking ship without a hero at the wheel.

Slowly, tiredly she picked up the lids of trashcans and peered inside hoping for some scraps or leftovers. Supermarkets had already been raided, and you were asking for trouble if you so happened to wander into one; they were the lairs of all the top gangs. A dry, itching feeling in the back of her throat made her wonder if she should switch to trying for some water instead. She began walking back down the street to a derelict building. It had large grey slabs of stone as walls, a strong wooden door with supports. Someone had tried to make this a fortress to withstand attacks during the regular raids in the city. Unfortunately, she knew that whoever it was never came back, as when she first found it there was blood on the floor. The same blood tainted the hands of all in Gotham, as every bite she took of food was taken from the hands of another. Every drink she had meant that there was less for someone, somewhere. But she couldn't let that plague her now. Creeping in, she went to the tight metal tap – it was her secret haven as it seemed to still have a fresh water supply. Greedily she cupped her hands and drank like a dog. It cooled her raw throat and relief spread over her body; it wasn't perfect but small victories like this made her life worth living. She wiped her face clean and shut the tap tightly, not a single drop of precious water could be wasted. She turned on her heel and walked out, already feeling stronger as she clenched and unclenched her fists. She was ready to fight for her food.


End file.
